River | 26 | she/her | Retired fanfic writer come back from the grave cuz Miguel O'Hara makes me feral 🤭 feel free to send in requests and give me a reason to drink wine and answer them | Art on Insta: @casuallyawkwardd
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I do SFW and NSFW content, please specify which you want in your requests cuz I'm a dumdum
Won’t write NSFW or other mature themes for underage characters
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FANDOMS/CHARACTERS:
Spiderverse:
Miguel O’Hara
Peter B Parker
Hobie Brown
Gwen Stacy
Miles Morales
IN THE WORKS:
BIG PROJECTS (aka it’ll take a little longer to finish, also usually take priority)
Close Encounters of the Spiderkind Pt 6
In His Vice Pt 4
OTHER (the backburners/quick things I can finish up)
I'm sorry for my sin but Miguel x reader and shibari (or just getting tied up w/webs or whatever)
Not even super restrictive ties, but just like a "you look so pretty tied up" cuz let me tell you there are some pretty knots for all genders 😭
Can I get an 'amen' from the choir
(also this is NSFW so hopefully minors dni with this one)
AMEN! Ah, and what a beautiful, sinful idea that is 🤤 honestly I'm disappointed in myself for not writing something about this already. Good thing for me that you slid into my dms 😏 Also yes protect the children!
PS I ain't giving the full description of all the mentioned styles. Ya'll get to have a google tab open on the side just like me if you're real curious
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader
Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! shibari/bondage, sex, rough sex
He had first caught wind of shibari from a passing comment, a dirty joke he probably overheard Peter and Hobie exchanging. Most likely Hobie, since he seems like the type, sharing how much excitement it brought to the bedroom; the control, the art of it. If it intrigued him, he didn't say so, rather a silent consideration of the idea. Looking back, the two of you had experimented with bondage before, though that was a generous way to put it. He loved tying you up, the trust and vulnerability that came with it, shibari sounding like a close relative to what you both were used to.
The secret research sessions that followed showed that they were in fact quite different. Hobie wasn't wrong, it was beautiful. The knots are intricately placed, forming a sort of artwork on the body. Miguel wasn't necessarily a man of the arts, but he liked your body. He'd definitely liked seeing your body tied up in rope. It would be even better if the rope looked as good as you did wrapped up in it.
Being a man of science, he would most likely try to master the skill behind the scenes, leading to very suspicious and mildly concerning behavior you pick up on. Still pulling all-nighters in the lab, but having no work to show for it? Yeah, it was your job as his partner to investigate. It doesn't take long for you to find him in some dark corner of the lab, hunched over a pile of rope tangled around his hands. Miguel would be defensive, but only because you startled him, calming down when he realized he mistook your intrigue for judgement. Now it's the both of you looking up shibari on the internet, you more openly fawning over the designs. It's decided then and there that you two should give it a try, you specifically pointing out his 'practicing' would be more effective on a real body. Wink, wonk.
You both start with the basics, simpler looking styles for 'hikui te shibari' and 'futomomo'. Taste comes with practice, Miguel finding he didn't just like the bondage aspect of shibari. Most of the time, he prefers to keep you somewhat free, binding either your arms or your legs, but rarely at the same time. He finds himself also taking pictures of his work, acquiring quite the collection of his partner in rather precarious positions, tied up like a present just for him. Consensually, of course. There's even a sort of sexiness in the aftermath, the imprints of his work lingering on your skin for him to run his fingers along. Something to kiss better on those nights you ache in an especially delicious way.
But he's not the only one enjoying the newest addition to the bedroom. Arguably, you picked up on shibari a lot quicker than he did, most likely because his massive hands struggle with the finer knots. You enjoy decorating yourself with the ropes, tying up your thighs or decorating your frame, waiting for Miguel to come home and fuck you in appreciation for your work. Particularly hip harnesses are what you've come to master, able to be as simple or intricate as you want, depending on your mood. So long as it's pretty and Miguel has a solid handle to yank your hips against his, you'd consider them a success.
Down the line, with lots of practice, if you two want to have lots of fun, you try out 'aomuke zuri' or 'hashigata zuri'. Miguel's personal favorite is 'daruma shibari', his opinion being it shows off your greatest ASSets. However, anything where you're up in the air for him, at his mercy and experiencing the thrill of hanging from somewhere high is good enough for the both of you. Those are for the special nights when all of HQ is quiet, making it a playground for sexual mischief. Not many people can say they'd been fucked hanging from a multi-story building, now could they?
Material used would depend on the situation. For the quickies, the spontaneous rendezvous, he just uses his webs. The designs are usually kept simple for the sake of time, but also it just doesn't look as nice as when you two use the ropes. Speaking of which, it isn't surprising when you realize you need to empty one of the dresser drawers for the rope collection both of you started. They become a regular purchase, various colors and sizes to spice up the designs, even just for the sake of matching your favorite lingerie sets. We stan lingerie for all genders! Rope sort of becomes an inside joke between the two of you, exchanging knowing glances anytime either of you see rope out in the wild.
"You think that'll work, cariño?"
And don't worry, it's not just you getting tied up all the time. There are plenty of styles that you enjoy seeing on Miguel, particularly anything to wrap around his cock or chest. You even make the executive decision to do breast ties rather than a simple chest one, that way you can admire how the rope squeezes his pecs in an oh so tasty fashion. His arms get bound from time to time as well, but those are for the nights he's especially naughty.
Summary: In the aftermath of protecting your own universe, someone not entirely unexpected is there to help bandage your wounds
Warnings: fluff, somehow became hurt/comfort, mild Spanish but still correct me if it's wrong
A/N: The slow burn is burning, but I wanted to fan the flames a little bit?? I dunno, personally I can't stand the stuff so to write it is kinda tricky, plus it works for the story. Builds the tension yah know? Even if I wanna just shove the two together and make them smoochy kiss by now. If ya'll got headcanons send them my way cuz honestly they help tons with this AU specifically. Plus I just like hearing from you guys, they're always such nice messages 🥰
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
You had thought there would be more perks to joining the Spider Society. Sure, there were some you could think of now: friends, a chance to protect the universe, a paycheck. But it seemed that despite all that, Miguel wouldn't allow a heads up on upcoming canon events to be one of them. In fact, the man had said on multiple occasions that he made an effort to keep such things left in the unknown, something about how it can 'affect the true outcome'. Most of the time you understood his point of view, his hesitancy to mess with the given timeline, but it was moments like these that you decided to question your great leader.
Tonight had been your canon event #1963, Spider-Man vs The Lizard. Another thing Miguel forbade is talking about them, that is unless the people discussing the event had already gone through it in their own universes. The system he kept in place was a very delicate one. It followed the same formula as knowing the next canon event, sharing details that might give a spider the advantage that could affect the timeline and blah, blah blah. You didn't care to remember the details now, for you were in pain. It would have been nice to know about the superhuman strength, the unfair speed for how massive the creature was. The rapid healing, the teeth, the claws and the tail. God the tail. You'd rather not remember the amount of times that thing knocked the wind out of you, even getting a few hits in after you had actually managed to rip it off. And it'd grow back, oh you knew it would, the bastard creature managing to slip into the sewers while you were busy stopping a bus from flying into the Hudson River.
A groan passes your lips as you crawl through your apartment window, cursing under your breath as you slowly pull each limb in after you. Collapsing on the ground would've been ideal, but deep down you knew it'd just be harder to get up. And the last thing you need is your kiddo to get dropped off the next morning to the sight of her mother face first on the floor, covered in her own blood and bruises.
Shutting and locking the glass, you take your time as you begin the trek to the kitchen, the usually short trek now feeling like a marathon. Then there was an unwelcome beeping. The Gizmo is alight, the orange hue off putting and you tap it to silence the sound, effectively ending the incoming call. It happens again as you round the counter and again you hit ignore.
Just as you manage to will your arms to open the medicine cabinet and grab the first aid kit, the jarring sound of a portal opening makes you nearly jump out of your skin. "Jeez, Miguel!" you shout, not even looking, it never seemed to be anyone else nowadays.
"You weren't answering," he countered in that stern tone of his, your mind already picturing him standing there with his arms crossed and a disapproving look on his face. No, time had told you that was just what he looked like when he was worried. "Figured by now you'd know what comes next."
You scoff, setting the kit on the counter and shutting the cabinet, finally turning to look at the man. "What do you want?"
He seems confused by the question, "You just had event #1963," he states matter of factly, "I came to... receive your report."
"You came because you wanted to make sure I was okay."
"I never said-"
"We're friends, Miguel," you groan, turning to inspect the first aid kit, "it's normal to check up on friends."
He's silent, listening as you pick at the metal tabs to unlock the box. "You're hurt," he notes the obvious, no doubt able to see even in the dark like yourself, "how bad?"
A groan passes your lips, "I dunno, I got knocked around pretty good. That lizard is one mean, mother- what are you doing?" you're interrupted as an arm circles your waist, Miguel's hand pressing and prodding at your middle and you hiss in a breath. "Ow! Miguel, what-"
"You probably broke some ribs," he ignores your protests, his other hand grabbing your arm to gently turn you to face him. "Some scrapes and bruises," he continues to assess, touching your cheek and you flinch back at the sharp pain it brings. "Lyla, perform a wellness scan."
"I can take care of myself."
"Will you just," he bends forward, hands coming behind your thighs and lifting with ease. It's briefly disorienting, your advanced instincts making you respond quickly by grabbing his shoulders. Miguel sets you on the counter, bracing his hands on either side of your hips and meeting your gaze with his own, "try not be stubborn for once in your life?" You don't respond, taken aback by how close his face is to yours, the moment brief as he stands upright to tap at his Gizmo and initiate the scan. Silently you hope he can't see the pink in your cheeks. "Where's Vada?"
"At her grandpa's," you respond, quieter now compared to your initial bravado, "I had a feeling tonight would be rough, she doesn't need to see me like this."
He hums in response, turning to look at the first aid kit and bringing it closer. "I can at least patch you up some while Lyla analyzes you," he says, flicking the lid off with a finger. Your suit was torn, completely beyond repair and you didn't want to think about the effort it would take to make a new one.
While you sit in your own thoughts of self pity, Miguel is wrapping his hand around your wrist, gentle as he lifts your arm for further analysis. He uses the scissors in the first aid kit to cut the fabric further, a necessary evil to look at the marks the Lizard's teeth and claws left. Then came the alcohol swabs to wipe at the dried blood, a hiss of breath coming in between your clenched teeth. "How bad is it?" you ask, noting the subtle knit of his eyebrows and how his lip twitches when he caught sight of your injuries.
Miguel's mouth presses into a tight line, shaking his head as he lowers your arm to start on the next one. "I should've come to help," he quietly scolds himself, making your own brow furrow.
"You said you try not to interfere," you're perplexed, "that it's important to respect the timeline."
"I know that," Miguel is a little more terse now, the swab pressing harder to your skin and causing you to hiss in a breath. The sound makes him pause briefly before remembering to work lightly. "I don't like seeing you hurt," he explains next, red eyes meeting your own in the darkness. There's a charge then, something electric and familiar. It had been some time since you'd felt it, that fact startling you enough to look away. If Miguel notices anything he doesn't say, taking on his usual quiet demeanor when he was focused on his work.
Lyla's voice sounds as he finishes up cleaning the wounds on your arms and midsection, "Wellness scan complete!" she chirps, "Aside from a few cracked ribs, some nasty bruising and those scrapes, Y/N is the pinnacle of health." The results give you a sigh of relief, glad to skip a trip to the hospital where you'd have to explain exactly how you came about your injuries.
"You're lucky," Miguel mutters, looking over his work and you shrink a little under the scrutinizing gaze, "Some of these cuts could have easily needed stitches."
"Well, good thing accelerated healing came with the Spider-Man subscription," you counter, always striving to counter his pessimism with the brighter side to things. Mostly because it pissed him off. He simply lets out a 'tch' and steps back, allowing you to dismount from the counter; the pain that shoots up your frame reminding you that you were still human after all.
"You gonna be okay for the night?" Miguel asks next and a bittersweet feeling settles in your chest. While you'd never admit it, there was a certain charm to your fearless leader's unexpected visits, which had been more frequent since that first night you ignored his calls. Granted, most of the time you knew he was coming now, preplanned dinners and the very rare nights when no one else could babysit. Sometimes he'd just stop by, drop off dinner as a sort of apology for making you work overtime, and vanish before Vada had the chance to beg him to stay. It wasn't like he had a great track record of telling her no.
"Yeah, I guess," you answer, pinching at the fabric of your suit to adjust how it lay.
"Guess?"
"Well.. I mean..." you trail off, biting your bottom lip and contemplating just how to phrase your feelings. The last thing you wanted was to guilt him into staying. "Today just sucked, this whole canon event sucked. Usually I have Vada around or I hang out with my friends to wind down, but it's late and... ugh, no worries," you fail miserably in your mission, backtracking to cover the mess of words. "Forget about it, a night to myself might just be what I need."
Miguel doesn't say anything, shifting his weight from side to side, that look on his face a telltale that the gears in his head were grinding together. After what feels like too much time to have passed, he lets out a sigh, "Canon events like this one do tend to take a toll on people," his voice is matter of fact, "I wouldn't be setting a good example if I left one of my employees to deal with it on their own."
You roll your eyes, "You talk like you're my boss."
"I am your boss."
"In this case, I think leader and boss are very different. You're more the man behind the screen."
"Hmmm..."
"Who makes everyone else do their dirty work."
"Lyla, prepare a portal for-"
"Stop it!" you say between giggles, offering a light smack to his arm. He allows for a small smile, the closest you figured you'd get to sharing a laugh with him. "Come on, I'm not tired yet so let's wind down for the night."
There were many instances in your life where you could admit you were wrong, thinking that you could never be around Miguel O'Hara for more than ten minutes was one of those moments. Though, you'd never admit that. The two of you had more in common than met the eye initially, one such trait being that you were night owls. It should have been a given, after all you were both Spider-Man; the night was when you did your work, sometimes going near a day without proper sleep. It was nice to have someone to talk to in the hours you usually spent alone, where Vada would sleep soundly and you would spend hours trying to calm your body's system enough to get a wink of sleep.
Tonight felt like there was no urgency for that, not now. You offered Miguel dinner, more so because you were starving after such an intense fight. Unsurprisingly, the near seven foot man 'could have a bite', so that's where the two of you started. The fridge offered nothing, leading to a quick detour to the convenience store on the corner of your street. You talked his ear off admiring the technology of his suit, which had now changed into a tight, black t-shirt and grey sweats. He didn't miss the envy in your voice, the conversation taking twists and turns that followed the path you took through the various aisles.
Equipped with a plastic bag full of food and the knowledge that Miguel passionately despised pineapple on pizza, the journey home went by quickly and equally full of meaningless conversation. They only became deeper as you both prepared your respective foods in the kitchen. You vented on parenting dilemmas, about how the older Vada seemed to get, the more that spunk you liked seemed to get her into trouble. About the difficulties when the daycare would call, claiming Vada was scaring the other kids by saying her mommy was Spider-Man and was gonna beat them up, all while trying to keep a straight face. Miguel talked about his woes when he'd first started the spider society, tales of tracking down the other spiders and how some were less compliant and others, while some were downright bizarre. How even once he had a team the problems didn't stop, having to finesse the very system in which he used to operate the Gizmos and the society as a whole.
"The canon events are what is crazy to me," you said, now curled up on one end of the couch, suit long ago exchanged for a sweater, cotton shorts and a fuzzy blanket. "I mean to connect so many like events to each spider's story, that must have taken forever."
"It wasn't terrible," Miguel replied, sprawled on the opposite side of your sofa, bitten into burrito held lazily in one hand, threatening to spill pinto beans and cheese onto the armrest. "it's all in the programming. Once you have connection to the universe, you have access to the timeline. From there, cross reference each one and..." he trails off, the resolution not needing to be voiced.
"It must be nice for you, knowing everything that can and will happen."
Miguel shrugs, "I make it a habit to not look most of the time," he admits, "in my opinion it's not fair, not to mention the amount of stress I already have. Don't need to add to that anymore than I already have."
His words have you confused, "But you came here because you knew about event #1963."
"I did say most of the time."
"No, no, you don't get to deflect this one," you shake a coy finger in the air, careful not to spill your instant ramen as you sit a little straighter. "Why the exception?"
Miguel doesn't say anything.
"Did you just happen to see?" you continue to press, "Was it not a finite part of my timeline? Was something really bad possibly gonna happen?"
"It's not like that, Y/N," Miguel is harsher than he means to sound, the regret of it reflecting in his eyes as you sag slightly into the cushions. He mutters something under his breath, quiet even to your ears and shakes his head in silent frustration. "Maybe it is because we've... gotten closer in the last few months," he starts, "but truly it's because you have a lot more at stake than some of the others."
You scoff, "If you're talking about Vada, Peter and Jess have kids too-"
"That's different, Y/N." Miguel's eyes meet yours and they're intense. In such a way that you can't look away, like you know what he has to say next deserves undivided attention. He breathes, "they have kids, but they have partners as well too. Someone to be there if they're not. And yeah, everyone has families and friends but," he pauses, brows knitting as he seeks the right words. "We all know how it feels to lose that important person in our lives; that's just what comes with being Spider-Man, but Vada..." his next pause is fueled by emotion, the breath he takes in sharp. "She's just a kid. To lose her person doesn't come with that."
The room is quiet as you take in his words, a weight settling on your chest. In a way, he was right. It wasn't like the thought hadn't crossed your mind, that dread that the day would come where you didn't crawl through that window. That Vada would wake up to an empty apartment, too small to understand and no doubt frightened. You try not to fall too far into the idea, inhaling sharply as you reel back to the present moment, looking back to Miguel.
"I'm sure my family or her dad's would take care of her, but I know what you mean," you stir your noodles absentmindedly with the chopsticks, as if seeking the right words in the sauce. "God, way to shift the mood, O'Hara."
You try to laugh it off, to lighten the heaviness that now rests on your heart, Miguel unmoving as he watches you. "I try not to," he says gently, sitting straighter himself, "but I tend to have a knack for it. Bringing down the mood."
"No, I didn't mean it like that," your hand extends like second nature, seeking his own and squeezing. Comfort was something you'd grown accustomed to giving, something your life had required you to learn. A smile graces your features, "I'm glad you checked on me, that you care so much about both my daughter and me." Miguel looks between you and your hands, turning his over to squeeze back as a form of solidarity, a way to show reciprocation for your gratitude. You release him, falling back unceremoniously on the couch. "Even if you are a bad influence on her."
"¿Disculpe?" Miguel snaps back, that softness in his features evaporating at your accusation. "What are you getting at?"
"Oh, I dunno puta," the emphasis on the word makes Miguel remember very distinctly what you're referring to.
"I... I told her not to say it."
"And yet it took a week to finally get her to stop. That was a fun time," your voice drips with sarcasm, but in truth it was so long ago you held no more resentment over the slip up. Miguel understood that when he saw your lips curl into a sly smile.
He huffs, taking another bite of his burrito, not waiting to finish chewing before adding, "it's puto, by the way."
"Huh?"
"The word," he swallows, "if you're referring to me, it's puto, but if I were to talk to you, you'd be a pu-"
"Just eat the damn burrito, O'Hara." You throw one of the decorative pillows his direction, the both of you beginning a verbal spar, rooted in friendly intentions. It does little to wind you down for the night, but it makes it a better one all the same. The only reminder that you'd had a rough start being the lingering ache in you muscles and the wounds Miguel had patched up.
LMAO I'm working on it!!! Next part is already in the works; I try to alternate that piece with Close Encounters of the Spiderkind, so that story is taking a tad bit of priority right now. So happy you love the series!
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Wife!Reader x Peter B Parker x MJ Parker
Summary: Who knew you and your husband’s couple friends could be more that just friends?
Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! Sex, multiple partners, oral sex, p in v, p in a, double penetration, dirty talk, fluff
A/N: This fic totally got put on the backburner so I could finish requests and work on my series. That and I'm an anal editor... and I got carried away with the plot... anyways enjoy!
It all started as a joke. A stupid comment made by Peter during date night. The four of you would always get together once, maybe twice a month, to go on a group date. While it was a nice change of pace, the routine had become pretty mundane. Usually consisting of getting dinner at one of the three restaurants you all enjoyed, some light banter, catching up with each other’s private lives and ending the evening at you and Miguel’s apartment for drinks and wrapping up loose ends of conversation. Tonight was different.
You don’t know how or why, but the conversation had veered from the usual chatter to more...intimate conversation. Maybe it was the alcohol that gave everyone loose lips, but suddenly the topic of ‘keeping things interesting in the bedroom’ became the hot button issue of the evening. It was mostly you and Peter doing the talking, MJ chiming in here and there while Miguel silently sipped his drink beside you. Peter somehow gets on the topic of polygamy and open relationships, recounting how MJ and him had attempted it in the past, but got cold feet.
“Y’know, I’d be into having an open marriage if that meant getting to see you two naked.”
Peter was too caught up giggling at his own little comment to notice how the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift. It was brief, a moment of silence as the group absorbed what he had said in their hazy minds. The quiet eventually being disturbed as MJ lightly slapped her husband on the thigh, chastising him and looking at you and your husband with an apologetic look.
“I think that’s our cue to go, we told the sitter we’d be back before eleven anyways,” MJ changes the subject, helping you bring the now empty glasses to the kitchen before herding her husband to the front door. You exchange your farewells, MJ giving you another apologetic look that you dismiss.
“We all say stupid things after a few drinks,” you assure her and the two of you share a smile and a hug before your two guests leave. As the door shuts behind them, you turn to look at your husband, wrapping an arm around his waist as you lean into him, “You know Peter, he’s always got something funny to say,” you point out, resting your cheek on his shoulder. You’re looking up at him, trying to read his expression. Usually when Peter says something stupid, Miguel makes some snide comment back or simply tells him to ‘shut the hell up’.
But he didn’t say anything. And he’s still not saying anything. Eyes glued to the front door with that look on his face that lets you know he’s thinking about something. The look that indicates the gears in his head are turning.
“What do you think about it?” Miguel finally speaks up as you crawl into bed, both of you having finished up your usual nightly routines. The question has you pausing briefly before plopping gently onto the mattress.
“What do I think about what?”
“Opening up the marriage.”
You pause for a beat. “Why would you want to do that?”
Miguel only shrugs, seeming neutral about the idea himself, “Could be fun,” he points out in a matching neutral tone.
“Would you be okay with that? Me sleeping with some other guy?”
“Absolutely not,” Miguel pulls his eyes from the small, orange screen floating in front of him to give you a sideways glance. “It’d be someone we know. Someone I actually like.”
“Like Peter and MJ,” you return the bluntness, making Miguel’s jaw clench. He isn’t mad, you know him well enough to gather that, but he doesn’t seem himself. His dismissive attitude having something underneath it.
“Forget it, I’m tired,” he huffs, the little screen blipping away as he rolls onto his side, back to you. It’s then you realize he’s nervous, something that he thinks doesn’t suit him. It’s a rare thing to witness on him, you slide across the bed and wrap an arm around him, the side of your face resting against his.
“Let’s put a pin in it. Think about it some more, yeah?” He doesn’t say anything, just hums in acknowledgement, but the tension leaving his body lets you know he’s calmed down. You turn your head to kiss his cheek, whispering a goodnight in his ear before rolling back over to shut off the light.
Just as you’re settling in, Miguel shifts behind you. A strong arm wrapping around your torso and pulling you to him. It has you letting out a soft chuckle, which turns into a light gasp as his lips trail along your neck. One hand is pulling the collar of your nightshirt aside so he can kiss across your shoulder, the other sliding between your legs and into the fabric of your underwear.
“You were so beautiful tonight, mi amor,” he says for the hundredth time that evening and yet somehow it still riles you up. “Wearing that little, silk dress...you know what that does to me,” the pad of his middle finger presses down on your clit, teeth nipping the shell of your ear simultaneously.
“Miguelito,” you sigh, his grip on you tightening and pressing the swell of your ass to his growing bulge. Fingers tangle in your hair, turning your face to his so he can kiss you deeply. When his tongue tries to slip into your mouth, you nip at it playfully, causing him to growl something in Spanish and pull you underneath him.
For a while, neither of you touch on the subject again. Not in the way that made it seem like a forbidden topic, but rather you were both waiting for the other to say something first. It starts out harmless, the ‘what if’ scenarios mingling in with the usual pillow talk. And then they extended into casual conversation between your husband and you. While getting ready for bed, over the dinner the both of you had made, cleaning the house up on Sunday, even when you go out grocery shopping.
Would we go on dates? “Don’t see why not,” Miguel says with a shrug.
Are you interested in Peter or MJ? “Hmm...both,” you responded in kind to his question, “What about you, baby?”
Miguel gets that thoughtful look, eyes turned to the ceiling and lips pursing, “...Both.”
It felt strange, talking about dating your closest friends behind their back. Especially when conversations turned a bit more...explicit. Wondering what they’d be like in bed, what they’d sound like, taste like...”We have to say something,” you tell him one night while washing the dishes.
Your husband nods in agreement, but there’s a tightness to his features that hints at hesitancy, “How do you even bring something like that up?” It’s a fair point, you had also been pondering over how to break the ice.
“Well...it was technically Peter’s idea, right?”
“It was a joke, amor. A joke he made when he was drunk.”
You bite your lip in thought, scrubbing a plate a little longer than necessary. "I think we just do it," you finally say, looking over at Miguel who's giving you a skeptical look. "Just ask 'em. The worst they can do is say no."
"And never speak to us again," Miguel's pessimistic comment made you giggle.
"They wouldn't do that, you know that."
The plan was to divide and conquer, Miguel mentioning the idea to Peter when he saw him next and you would bring it up with MJ during your usual biweekly weekend brunch. It was something you two had learned to plan well, your little chats having to be coordinated so one of you could borrow your husbands' gizmos. Seeing as Miguel considered 'girl time' not a viable reason to give you your own.
Despite the initial confidence, your nerves were running at an all time high, hands shaking as you brought the mimosa to your lips. "Everything okay?" MJ grabs your attention and you hum, looking at her like a deer caught in the headlights. She smiled softly, sitting a little straighter in her chair. "You didn't hear a word I just said, huh?"
"I...no. Sorry," you confess sheepishly, "there's just been a lot on my mind."
"Penny for your thoughts?" she teased, tone containing a sliver of sincerity.
You sigh heavily, thinking of how to approach the topic, thinking you'd have more time to prepare. After some anxious fidgeting and looking anywhere but where the other woman sat across from you, it just spills out. "We should go on a date."
"Huh?"
"And so should our husbands."
"What are you-"
"With each other."
"Woah, hold on, back up," she waved a hand to silence you, laughing to break the tension. It's at this moment you're grateful she knows you so well. How your nerves could get the better of you and cause you to blurt out nonsense. Allowing you to take a breath, she pressed, "Now, what's all this about?"
Another deep breath, "Do you remember our last date night? When we were talking back at the apartment?"
"Yeah..."
"And Peter made that joke about..."
"Ohhhh," her eyes widened in recognition, only to then shut tight as she cringed at the memory, "yeah, he had a lot to drink that night. I don't even know how we got to talking about open marriage," she chuckled wryly.
"Well.. Miguel and I have been talking," you continued, getting MJ's attention again. "We thought maybe it could be fun. Something new."
"So you two are opening up your marriage?"
"Not exactly," you start to tap the base of your glass nervously, "We figured if we were to open things up, it would be with someone we trust. You know how Miguel is, he likes his privacy. So if we were to open things up-"
"You'd want to do it with Peter and me," MJ finished for you and you offered an awkward smile.
"Are you mad?"
"No," MJ reassured, expression turning thoughtful. Her silence felt deafening, your heartbeat thrumming in your ear as you waited for her to react. She didn't look upset, but she didn't look intrigued eager, stirring the thought around in her head while she finished her food.
When the bill arrived, you finally spoke up, "You know, you can just forget about it. It was just a thought we had-"
"I'll talk to Peter," MJ said, plucking the receipt from your hand and pulling out her card. You were taken aback, relief washing over you to the point you could have melted into the chair then and there. MJ, seeming unfazed, gave you a reassuring smile, "Let you know at the next group date night?"
"Yeah," you breathe, finding your voice again, "That'd be great."
The next date night came on sooner than expected, Peter and MJ being the ones to reach out and schedule the event. You knew Miguel was as equally nervous as you, he just wasn't as big on expressing it, the anticipation only seeming to grow as the day drew near. They had invited the two of you over for a night in, consisting of a homemade dinner, maybe some card games and the long awaited conversation. A piece of lasagna, curated from Aunt May's own recipe, and a couple hands of blackjack later, the four of you had gathered on the couch for a long winded discussion.
First and foremost, Peter and MJ clarified that they were on board with the idea, easing the bundle of nerves in your chest; however there were things they wanted to address. It was mostly technical, pertaining to Miguel and Peter and their work, along with any other boundaries that each individual had. The consensus being to take things slow, start from where the friendship had developed and expand from there. Keep whatever did occur reserved to personal lives and not let it carry over into anything else.
"It'll be different, that's for sure," you said to Miguel, the two of you back home. He was wanting to get into work early, already started on his nightly routine while you drew a bath to wind yourself down.
"How do you feel?" he asked, making eye contact through the mirror. You smiled, noting how his eyes gave your nude form the mandatory up and down before you sank into the warm water.
"Good," you replied after giving it a brief thought, "honestly, I'm kind of excited."
Miguel chuckled, "I'm not exciting for you now?"
"No! I didn't mean it like that, just that-"
"Cállate, mi amor," Miguel soothed, coming to kneel beside the tub. One of his hands lifted to cup your face, thumb prodding your cheek when he saw your pout. "I understand you, always have, haven't I?"
"Yes," you agreed with some reluctance, which only humored him further.
"Goodnight, cariño."
"Goodnight, Miguelito," you echo, accepting a kiss that lingers on your lips, even as he walks away and settles into bed.
Everything was nerve wracking at first for you, akin to when you were still single and dating. You were thankful that you had the basis of friendship to lean on, butterflies not as severe during the first few dates with Peter and MJ. Over time, they had ceased entirely, returning to how things had been between them, only now there was something new. A spark of intrigue that would eventually grow into desire. It was thrilling, dating two people and being married to one, a sort of taboo that developed into your new norm. Not so forbidden as you had initially felt it to be. Everyone had their own unique way about them, each seeming to make you reminisce on your life up to this point and beyond.
Peter reminded you of your past, when dating was new and fun. Dates felt like you were back in high school, going to cheap burger joints and run down arcades. He enjoyed taking you to the bowling alley his Uncle Ben used to take him to; and you would always have to hide your smile when seeing he still had to use the bumpers when playing. In exchange, you had brought him to the diner you used to work at. Vintage to you, but modern day to him, he enjoyed trying every milkshake on the menu and you were kind enough to divulge the secret ingredient that made them so special.
The first time the two of you had sex provided a sense of deja vu. Fumbling hands and experimental touching, except now the both of you were older and wiser. Over time, the sex became almost playful, the bedroom full of hushed giggles between breathy moans. He was a jokester, even when nestled between your legs, teeth teasing when nipping at your skin. And yet he was equally tender, checking in at random moments; he could be buried to the hilt in your heat and would still ask if you were okay and it would warm your heart knowing he'd stop even then if you asked. Which you never did.
"How was it?" Miguel had asked you the morning after the first time you'd been with Peter, monotone but curious.
"It was....good."
"Better than me?" There was no venom behind his words, jealousy not something Miguel was known for.
"No, I don't know how to explain it, it's just different," you shrugged, "What about you and MJ? Was it 'better'?"
"No," he shrugged back, pondering to come up with his own unique answer, but he couldn't find one. "Just different."
MaryJane was like the present, always in the moment and spontaneous. Dates were decided on a whim, sometimes the two of you were already spending time together, realizing too late that whatever shopping spree or girl's night you were doing could be classified as a date. Between her and Peter, she was the first one you got comfortable with. Not because you had a stronger friendship to start with, but because there was already love. The kind formed between two women, a deep understanding of the other person that your husbands would probably never understand, no matter how hard they tried.
You had never been fortunate enough to be with a woman before her. Something you said you had always regretted and daresay even fantasized about. MJ just laughed it off, saying she was basically in the same boat.
"What do you mean by that?" you asked, perplexed.
She just laughed it off, "I...experimented some in college. Back when Peter and I were on our first break."
"What!?" You squeaked, anger coming from the place of a friend who had been denied vital information. "You never told me that!"
"It wasn't anything special," MJ waved off your words, "we were both drunk and inexperienced."
Her words didn't seem to hold any weight once the lights were off. You were surprised at how seamlessly she seemed to take control, kissing you breathless until her lips had trailed all the way down to your core. Her tongue knew which buttons to push, how slow it needed to work to build you up so you could come crashing down. You were shaking from the aftershock, and yes even some nerves, when it was your turn to return the favor. MJ tasted like no fruit you'd ever had before and yet that seemed to be the best way to describe it. Sweet with just a hint of sour, her long nails scratching against your scalp when she grabbed your hair, making you moan into her cunt. Pride bubbled up in your chest when she finished, greedily lapping up her wetness before she pulled you up to another kiss.
"How the fuck do you make it look so easy?" you asked once things had settled, the two of you snuggled under the covers exchanging pillow talk.
"Dunno, I like peaches." You both laughed, followed by the hushed giggles so as not to wake Mayday who was two rooms away. Sleepovers became frequent, the morning after always spent drinking coffee until someone's husband came to fetch them.
Miguel was your future, you never knew what to expect and yet that's what made it all the more exciting. You had always seen him as such, the man you'd spend the rest of your life with, the one you wanted to start a family with someday. A part of you had had reservations, that maybe this change would dampen what the two of you already had, but if anything your relationship was better. You had gotten used to being around each other, the honeymoon phase beginning to fade into the mundane that came with marriage. If you weren't working, you were together, at least until now. Now there was new conversation, personal anecdotes that the other hadn't heard or been a part of. The spark had never faded between you two, but now it burned brighter.
Sex was just as good as it had always been, it was a welcome familiarity. Miguel's body was something you knew well, every inch another part you adored. There was fun with discovering a new person's turn ons, what made them moan the loudest, but there were times when you didn't yearn for that. Rather, you preferred spending your time underneath your husband. Morning or night feeling your walls be stretched to the shape of his cock. Feel your chest burn with longing as his arms wrapped around you, both while his hips thrust against yours and in the aftermath as you drifted off to sleep.
It had been some time since the four of you had gotten together, all too enthralled in the nuance of the changes in your relationships. In all honesty, you hardly considered it a date night, more of an accidental get together. MJ and you had been keeping each other company, your respective husbands out working. They entered the Parker living room via portal, seemingly out of breath but relatively unharmed.
Miguel intended to simply pick you up and head home, but when MJ offered some leftover empanadas, you had shown her how to cook them earlier that night, he decided to stay a while longer.
"And what are you two going to do with the rest of your night?" MJ asked, once everyone was sat, their bellies full of Spanish cuisine.
"Unwind. It's been a stressful day," Miguel answered before you, making you look in your husband's direction. The look in his eye was one you knew all too well, making you smile and your cheeks turn a faint pink.
"Ohoho," Peter chimed in, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing."
"Reel it in, Parker," MJ teased her husband, rubbing his back reassuringly when he pouted at her jab.
"Well, then I guess we should get out of your hair." Miguel let out a huff as he got to his feet, patting your leg as an indicator to follow. The two of you hardly took two steps before Peter was intercepting your path to the exit.
"Hold on there, big guy," he chuckled, a familiar mischievous look in his eye. "I may have a proposition."
"I don't know, Peter," it was your turn to tease, entering his line of sight as you leaned on your husband's arm. "Might I remind you of the last time you had a 'proposition'?"
"No," he cut you off, preventing you from sharing the details of the last time you two spent time together. A story you both swore to take to the grave, its contents something neither of your spouses would let you live down. "I was thinking," he started again, "since we're all in...the mood," Peter's fingers wiggled, as if casting some sort of spell, "then maybe all four of us could take this upstairs?"
It was an idea that intrigued you, as well as your husband; you could tell since he hadn't said anything yet. It was even more obvious he was interested when he did respond. "I don't think your bed is big enough, Peter."
"We actually just upgraded to a king, thank you very much."
"Hmm," was all Miguel responded with, gaze traveling to look down at you and over to MJ on the couch. No words were spoken, only a silent understanding as the four of you cleaned up, migrating to the upstairs master bedroom.
It starts with uncertainty, ironic seeing as you'd all spent the last few months touching and discovering each others’ bodies, but now it's figuring out the dance together. MJ takes the initiative, her lips finding yours, tongues joining one another in a seductive dance. She's overpowering, chasing your mouth as you pull back for air, cutting your gasp short. Her hands are holding your face, the one wrapping around your waist new. You both part to glance over your shoulders, Miguel at your back and Peters hers. Giving your husband a quick kiss on the cheek, it's your turn to pull MJ in, lips engaged with hers once more while Miguel trails his down your neck.
Clothes are pulled from your body, joining the ever growing pile on the floor. Somehow the four of you manage to crawl into bed in unison, even more a miracle no one caught a stray knee or pulled a strand of hair. It's a mess of teeth and tongues, lips and hands roaming bare skin and squeezing wherever they could.
Foreplay was brief, all of you too eager to simply be with one another. Miguel took to lying on the bed, MJ sitting on his face while you bounced on his cock. Peter guides you to lean back against him, controlling your hips to move at a near painfully slow rate. His teeth nipped along your shoulder, his free hand teasing your nipple which serves to heighten the sensations.
"Fuck," you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head, MJ's seeking hand grounding you through the stimulation. Her lips seek yours like they were oxygen, messy in their desperation and a coy smile turns up your lips. As if reading each other's minds, you feel her fingers touch between your legs as you do the same to her. MJ is wet, soaked in her own release and Miguel's saliva. Your fingers take over rubbing her clit so his tongue can fuck into her, MJ's breath hitching, stirring something in you, a desire to watch her come undone.
She matches your vigor, the two of you gasping and moaning in near harmony. Peter leans over you, his cock hard as he grinds against your ass, chin on your shoulder as he goes in to kiss his wife. You don't mind the intrusion, focusing on your pleasure and hers, grinding down on Miguel's cock while stroking her clit at a matching pace.
MJ is the first to come, a wanton moan leaving her mouth, her body going rigid. Miguel wraps his arms around her thighs to keep her secure to him, lapping up every drop of her essence, only releasing when she whimpers at the overstimulation. Once MJ falls back against the pillows for a quick break, you lay over your husband and kiss him next. He still tastes like her and it makes his lips all the more addicting. A growl rumbles in his chest, the vibration exciting and you can't help but smile into the kiss.
It only stops when you feel something prod against your ass, looking over your shoulder to see Peter, a smug expression on his face and a bottle of lube. Where he pulled it from, you're in too much of a haze to care. There's a question in his eyes, his cock continuing to grind as a way to further emphasize what he wanted, awaiting his answer. "Yeah," you breathe, "please, Peter, I need you."
He wastes no time, Miguel wrapping an arm around your waist to brace you. Peter generously applied the lubricant to his cock and your ass, fingers gentle as they pressed inside, a taste of what was to come. Anal was not a foreign concept, something Miguel and you had tried from time to time, but it doesn't lessen the initial sting. "Breathe, mi amor," Miguel purrs in your ear, encouraging a breath out you hadn't realized was being held. It's a fullness you'd never felt, the both of them no small feat, now nestled inside your warmth. Your husband moves first, hips pulling down and driving home, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips. "You're taking me so well, quierda. So perfect."
Peter finds his rhythm with you two, thrusting when Miguel pulls out and vice versa. Pleasure burns through your veins like it lives there, one pair of lips locked with yours while the other kisses along your spine. A few strokes to your clit are enough to push you over the edge, both men hissing in a breath as your walls clamp down. Your husband whispers praises in your ear in the aftershocks, keeping your trembling frame from collapsing completely.
"I just need a minute," you gasp, Peter guiding you to lie down, taking the space behind you with his cock still seated in your ass. You notice Miguel is still hard, about to give him an apologetic look before MJ is crawling over top of him again. He relaxes back against the pillows, hands coming to rest on her waist as she sinks down on him.
"Holy shit," she moans, hips wiggling to settle properly on his lap, placing her hands on his stomach to grind against him. It would be a lie to say you didn't get lost in watching the two of them, the sight of your husband and best friend enjoying each other's bodies like front row seats to your new favorite porno. It's passionate, erotic, both used to being in control in the bedroom, now fighting to take over the other. Miguel wins through sheer strength, flipping their positions and fucking her into the mattress like it's second nature.
"Fuck, that's hot," Peter whispers by your ear, seeming to have been just as enraptured. You turn and bring his mouth down to meet yours, pressing your ass back against him to indicate you wanted more.
Peter nods and he shifts to loom above you, keeping a hand on your hip to keep you on your side. He brings one of your legs over his shoulder, starting his thrusts once again, going deep into your ass. The two of you take your time, savoring each press of your hips together, exchanging playful kisses and breathy giggles, a contrast to the brutal fucking at your side. As you both find your rhythm, your spouses find their release, their combined curses filling the air as they finish at the same time. It's their turn to watch as they lie together, breathing heavily and Peter takes the chance to make a show of your fucking. His hand squeezes your breast, angling his hips to stroke against your new favorite spot that makes you see stars.
"God, Peter," you moan his name, reaching down to touch yourself once more, quickening your fingers when his hips begin to stutter. "I wanna cum together, God I wanna cum with you." He presses impossibly deep, a small whine escaping you and he kisses you through your shared orgasms.
It seems like a mutual decision to rest, Peter pulling out so you can scoot over to snuggle with MJ. Her arms wrap around you and Miguel's follow, Peter as well to form a post bliss sandwich of your bodies. "That was awesome," Peter is breathless, but always the one to speak first, "I think I found our new date night tradition." It urges a laugh from you and MJ, Miguel just humming in amusement. For a while, you simply lie together, the warmth of your bodies and the smell of sex lulling you to sleep.
Eventually the four of you disperse, Peter and MJ going to their en suite bathroom to grab warm, wet towels. As everyone starts cleaning up, a cry pierces the air. You look at the device on the bedside, recognizing the baby monitor. "Oh, Mayday's up," MJ notes, pulling on her closest nightgown. She catches your concerned look, waving a dismissive hand, "We've been trying to get her to sleep through the night, but..."
"I'll come," you offer as she trails off, pulling on your panties and borrowing Miguel's shirt from off the floor, tailing after the other woman. Miguel and Peter simply pull on their briefs and sit together at the edge of the bed, quiet as they listen to you two cooing down the hall at the fussy toddler.
"Ah, the joys of parenthood," Peter jokes, chuckling softly and running a hand through his hair. "That'll be you guys one day, totally worth it by the way."
"Actually, we're expecting," Miguel drops the news like it was a normal conversation point. It leaves Peter stumbling over his words, questions trying to come out all at once. "We found out right before we opened things up," Miguel shrugs, "figured we'd say something eventually."
"Yeah, I should hope so since we'd been fucking unprotected. I thought you were about to say Mayday had a brother or sister on the way," Peter teases and Miguel gives him a less than amused glance, but the other man doesn't mind. "Congrats man, I'm proud of yah," Peter places a hand on Miguel's shoulder. Miguel simply looks down at it, lifting it with his own to press his lips to the back of it. It brings color to Peter's cheeks, his gaze diverting to look back at the now ruined bed. The sheets were askew and the pillows dented beyond repair; Peter was certain there was a crack in the wall from the headboard, that it would only get bigger once you two had settled Mayday in for the night.
If anyone remembers this post from way back when, I have FINALLY completed the Miguel x Wife!Reader x Peter B x MJ fanfic that I've spent literal years writing. I dunno why I've spent so much time on this thing, probably because it's way out of my usual scope of writing, but I just need to do some more edits and it should be out sometime this weekend! Even if you don't like it, just pretend cuz I worked really hard and am gonna be sensitive about this one 🫵
could you do a Miguel o’hara x fem!reader/y/n where she’s a workaholic (as bad as him maybe even worse) and Miguel is practically begging her to just take a day off from hqu, and she’s refusing so he just forces her to go home. Idk there something about when a person is seeing how one of there annoying traits look like from everyone else perspective
Also love your works your an amazing author thank you for feeding us starving Miguel fans during a season of fan fic droughts due to the rising use of Ai, your an angel in these desperate times, we thank you for your service and commitment to the fan base
Oooo, this is a fun idea. I also like the concept of someone seeing their flaws in someone else and realizing how bad they are 😏 And thank you for your kind words, it's always nice to know my work is appreciated, especially after taking some time away. Fuck AI and can't wait for the next spiderverse movie so more people are inspired to keep writing about this fine man 😩💕
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader
Warnings: fluffish, hurt/comfort, a tiny innuendo, not fluent in Spanish so correct me PLEASE
Miguel knew you from before he took the mantle of Spider-Man, back when he was still working at Alchemax. The two of you were a team, him the head of genetics and you the head of bioinformatics. While he worked to make groundbreaking discoveries, you were the one making sure his work translated so everyone else could follow along. Your work together was one of the few things he looked fondly back on when thinking of Alchemax, until everything went up and smoke and he quit. What Miguel didn't anticipate was you to follow.
Refusing to let you throw away years of thesis papers and research that got you a doctorate, he offered for you to come work with him; where your mind could be used for good and not the corrupt agenda Alchemax followed. The early days had been late nights in the lab, understanding his new abilities and documenting any notable changes. Then came the discovery of universal travel, Lyla joining the team and guiding you both into creating what many know now as spider society. Somewhere along the way, feelings had grown between you two. Perhaps it was from the nights spent crashing on his couch, the subways long done running for the night. Or when Miguel had started insisting you take his bed instead, that way you could get 'quality' sleep. They were certainly there when he finally complied with your request that he'd join you.
That was years ago now, the two of you having since come to call the penthouse atop HQ home. Many of the other spiders teased you both on how similar you were, from your work ethic all the way to your twin aloof demeanors. Especially your work ethic, "You know, it seems like you and Y/N are always the last ones here." He can't remember who had said it now, but it had given him the idea to take a step back and inspect. While he'd been told time and time again how much of a workaholic he was, the one person who never made a comment was you. It wasn't until now he realized it was because you were the same way.
He'd argue you might be worse, all those 'competitions' for who went the longest without sleep now leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. You were thinner too, not from intentional neglect, but sometimes your work got priority over the basic necessities. Just like him. But you weren't like him, not really. While Miguel never claimed he was stronger than you, fact trumped opinion. While your mind was a force to be reckoned, your body was not genetically enhanced; it couldn't go days without eating and sleeping and not suffer the consequences.
"Mi amor," he tried to soothe the burn, kneeling beside you, your attention focused on the code script displayed on your monitor. "When's the last time you ate?"
You pause, only a moment to look up in thought before the sound of typing continues, "I had something not too long ago," your head bobs towards the trashcan under the desk, Miguel spotting the packaging for one of his protein bars you'd steal from time to time.
"Y/N, that was nearly twelve hours ago," he points out, "and I'm talking about a real meal. Not just.. some quick, prepackaged bullshit."
An amused scoff passes your lips, not seeming to realize the gravity of the situation he was bringing to your attention. "Hey, it's protein, that's good enough. Besides, you know how I get, I'm trying out that new code I told you about, the one for the security system's clock speed. Just a few more tweaks and it should help the system run quicker and more efficiently."
"Y/N," Miguel says more firmly, grabbing the seat of your chair and spinning you towards him. It surprises you, but that's not the look that meets his. You're annoyed and he's sure his expression is just as ticked off. "You can't keep working like this; I can't even think of the last time you stepped foot out of this building," his eyes softened some, hand coming to rest on your thigh, thumb rubbing the denim of your jeans. "I'm cutting your hours."
You're baffled, "What?" your arms cross over your chest, body leaning back in the chair, "you really think that's going to keep me from working? I have more hours overtime than-"
"That's not it," Miguel feels bad for interrupting, but this was a band aid he wanted ripped off already. He inhales deeply, "I've also asked Lyla to lock up your office and the labs when you're not scheduled."
He braces for the oncoming storm. "What!?" It was probably one of the worst fights you two had had, the raised voices traveling down the halls and warding off any spider person who dared wander too close. Accusations and childish digs you both were too old for flying. An hour later your office was a battlefield, Miguel stood on one end while you paced the opposite side. "I just don't understand where all this is coming from..."
"I'm trying to help you, cariño. All you do is work-"
"So do you."
"That's different."
"No, it isn't, Miguel," you're fuming, a temper that rarely flared, but could match his like no other. "It's the exact same and I never complained about your work. I've never told, no, made you stop working. My work is just as important as yours."
"I never said it wasn't, Y/N, but I'm not gonna sit here and let you work yourself to the bone."
"Oh, like you aren't?"
"I'm not human." Silence follows, but the tension is no less taut. He steps closer to you, hands out in a placating gesture. "My body can go longer without; that doesn't make it right, but it makes my concerns fair." Miguel goes to hold your face, which you initially jerk back from, allowing him on his second attempt. "Please, I know you love your work and it means more than you know that you want to help, but you can't do that if you don't take care of yourself."
It's an ironic thing to say, thus the accusatory glare you give him, but you are tired. Very tired now, the argument taking more out of you than it should. You don't fuss as he kisses your forehead and guides you out of the room, ensuring Lyla locks up after. But you aren't done, far from it. Even as you ride the elevator to the apartment above and crawl into bed, your mind works to come up with a plan.
The weeks that follow are the war, a back and forth of mind games between you two. Miguel could tell Lyla to lock the doors, could crack down on security to ensure you didn't step foot into your place of work without him knowing, but what he neglected to remember was you were the one who programmed those systems. While it didn't take long for to be a programmer gone hacker, Miguel was just as quick to pick up on your schemes. After agreeing not to tell you he'd recruited her assistance, Miguel had Margo work against you behind the scenes, rewriting code so you couldn't. When he'd catch you vigorously typing at your computer, he'd remind you to focus on actual work, not your 'new side project'.
Other days he wouldn't have the patience to outsmart you, simply using his strength to hoist your frame over his shoulder and carry you to the front doors, locking them after. "Go," he said behind the glass, "get a hobby."
That made your eye twitch, Oh, you'd get a hobby. Miguel's first indicator that something was afoot was that you were going out, by choice. The other spiders considered it an abuse of power when he sent a few of them to follow you, reluctantly reporting back that your new hobby was actually a second job. It was nothing major, a part time gig at the computer repair shop a few blocks away, but it was slow work that gave you time to continue programming for the society. Oh, did it make his blood boil. One would almost think you were cheating on him, the others doing their best to tip toe around him during this trying time. He eventually got the nerve to bring it up one night while cleaning up after dinner.
"So, how's taking time off work?" He asked, seeing if you'd simply confess.
You hum in pretend thought, "It's good, very relaxing."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"What do you do?"
He doesn't miss the way your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek, one of your tells, "...yoga."
"Yeah?"
"Yep."
"Why don't you show me one of the poses." It's not a question and he knows you're busted. You were one of the least flexible, under most conditions, and least balanced people he'd ever met. The fact you even attempted a tree pose was vexing. "Y/N, I know you're lying."
That was probably one of your dumbest fights, heated words because you didn't have what he considered a hobby. The result was you didn't speak for days. All the while, you were still working and his plan to lessen the load was for naught. Miguel was back to square one and, what was worse, he'd put distance between you two. A divide that had you sleeping in separate rooms and robbing the penthouse of the usual chatter. When he realized you weren't going to budge, he decided to be the first to apologize. Your body was stiff as it sat curled on the couch, his own spreading out beside you as he lay his head in your lap.
"I give up," his voice was muffled by the blanket there, but the sound of defeat wasn't.
"About time," you keep it short, forgiveness not easily won.
He sighs, turning to press his face into your stomach and inhale your scent, your frame twitching as the gesture tickles your skin. "I don't want to fight about this, mi amor. I just.. ugh, Ya no lo sé."
I dunno anymore.
"You think I don't worry about you?" Miguel's eyes look up at you, "that I don't think you work too hard? I do, but I know your work is important to you."
Miguel raises, a hand braced on the armrest as he presses his forehead to your own. "It is, but you are too," his voice is low, a soothing rumble you had missed hearing over the last week. "I need everyone in the society at their best, everyone," he emphasized and you chuckle softly.
"And they need their brave leader to be at his best," you point out, hand coming up to stroke his cheek, "I do too."
"Well, what's our conclusion?" His scientific reference makes you laugh in earnest, humming as you consider the options.
"A day," you say, "we take a day for ourselves. No work, no spider society, just us."
"Y/N."
"Okay, maybe two days. A weekend," you correct yourself and his lips quirk up slightly, leaning in to gently kiss your lips.
It's brief, but passionate, his tongue following the seam of your bottom lip before pulling back and leaving you to desire more. "And you need to eat more, sleep too."
Summary: Adjusting to the new norm takes time, takes effort, some do it seamlessly while Miguel thinks you need a little nudge in the right direction
Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! Sex, rough sex, semi-public sex cuz possibly getting caught? non-con in terms of pretending to be someone else, gaslighting, me attempting suspense
A/N: See? I'm still writing, not consistently but it happens. I bring smut as an apology for those who waited for this part to come out and don't worry more will come ;) Dividers by cafekitsune
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The air was starting to warm up, spring coming into its own at long last. I had been enduring the few weeks of in between, where the days were hot and cold, quite literally. One day it would seem that winter was behind us, the next it was as though that damn groundhog had in fact seen its shadow. With the warm weather came the sun, with the sun more color. That was what MJ and I liked about Rosé and Thorns, aside from the bottomless mimosas from Friday to Sunday. Taking advantage of the outdoor seating, I sat back in my chair as I looked over their choice in blooms this year. Planters full of lavender, snapdragons and of course their obligatory roses. It seemed this year they'd chosen bicolor ones, white stained with bright reds and pinks like the very roses Alice painted in the story.
Ceramic clinks on the metal table and I look over to the sound, smiling as I see MJ had returned, our orders now in hand. It was her treat today, two drinks and a pastry each as usual. Like me, MJ was a creature of habit, making it easy when it came to ordering for one another. While she preferred a traditional mimosa, hot tea and cream cheese pastry, I was more so inclined to the apple mimosa, alongside a standard latte and an almond tart.
"Soooo," MJ coos at me, pulling her chair in as she sits, resting her head on her hands and her elbows on the table edge. "How have things been?"
"Please," I counter, waving a hand as I lift the mug to my lips, "you go first, I need this." She proceeds to share about the last month of her life as I sip up the decorative foam. It was another part of the routine, the one day where we were able to truly talk to one another. We had a sort of unspoken understanding, an awareness that both of us were busy with work and family, save for a single day out of the month where we finally committed to a few hours just for us.
MJ seemed like she'd been busier than me this time around, announcing her divorce had been finalized, that she'd ended up with full custody and that she was already seeing someone else. "That fast?" I ask, not even able to fathom being able to move on from five years of marriage that quickly.
She scoffs, "Please, the divorce lasted almost a year and a half! We'd been seeing each other a little the last few months anyways, but we made things official Monday once the last of the proceedings were done with. Sorry, had to keep it hush hush or Peter could've used it against me," she finishes sheepishly, offering an apologetic look that I take no problem accepting. Her offering to cover brunch today helped too.
"Well don't be squeamish now, who is he? What's he like? Is he cute? Details, please," I insist and she laughs behind her hand.
"Well, funny enough we knew each other back in high school. You remember when I told you about Flash?"
My mouth is agape, "Flash, who cheated on you, Flash!?"
"We were kids," MJ shrugs, dismissing my question as she begins to cut into the pastry in front of her. "People change, we just needed to grow. He's ten times better now, less douchey and with a more filled in beard." We both have a chuckle at her minor dig.
"Well, does Mayday like him enough?" I ask next.
"Oh, she loves him. I've only just started having them spend time together, he's great with her. Way better than her shitty excuse of a dad." My brow furrows and I give her a look, a silent scolding to not speak ill of her child's father, even if he'd taken a turn for the worse. Peter was a nice guy and all, but ever since he'd lost his job at The Daily Bugle, he'd begun spending his time at the race tracks; everything went downhill from there from what I was told. "Speaking of daughters and their fathers..." MJ grabs my attention before my mind goes on a side tangent and I meet her gaze, "how are things with you?"
The question gave me more pause than I expected, making me nearly choke on my first sip of mimosa and causing the bubbles to tickle in the back of my throat. MJ is patient through my small coughing fit and I contemplate her question completely this time. "It's... been good," I decided, "really good actually."
"Really?" she's surprised, "because last time we talked, you seemed almost ready to call it quits yourself." I nod at her assessment, it was true. A month ago Miguel and I had been on thin ice, his constant late nights and missing important dates wearing me thin. "What's changed?"
"...Everything?" MJ quirks an eyebrow at me, "I don't know how to explain it, it's like night and day. Miguel just.. changed I suppose?"
"Changed how?"
"Well..." I trail off once more, unsure where to even begin. That his work schedule suddenly wasn't so strict? That I almost couldn't get him to leave Gaby's side at nap time? That we were having sex near every other day...
"Hello? Earth to Y/N!" MJ raises her voice in a sing-song tone and I shush her, my face now hot for more than one reason. My flustered state seems to humor my friend, who's now laughing at my expense. "Oh my God, he's changed that much?"
"It's not funny," I say, a little firmer than intended. It makes MJ pause, years of friendship making it so I know what she's going to ask without her even saying. "I know it's supposed to be a good thing, but... I don't know, something just seems off. He's been almost too good to be true, too perfect."
"What, think you got yourself a case of the body snatchers?" I don't answer her, partly because I do think that, partly because it'd be crazy to say so. MJ's expression turns as serious as my own then, humor fading when she realizes I'm disturbed. "You...you don't think he knows? About you and-"
"No." I cut her off before she can say the words, the idea of voicing it aloud making my skin itch. A sigh escapes me, hunching over the edge of the table, looking into my mimosa glass like the answers to all my questions would form in the liquid like a fortune being told. My fingers pinch at the flute, bringing the glass to my lips and taking a big swig, alcohol a last ditch effort to loosen my nerves.
"A woman's intuition is never wrong," MJ lends and I look up at her, returning the warm smile she offers. It's a comfort, something to ground me when I've been feeling adrift for weeks. Ever since Miguel had changed I realize. "Just be careful, okay? Be smart."
"Thanks," I say, taking a breath and raising my glass towards her. "Right back at'cha, that is if you're wanting to date a cheater."
"Oh, you're such a bitch," MJ chuckles, clinking her glass with mine. Lunch resumes then, the mood lightening as the sun climbs higher in the sky. We talk about anything else we might've missed. My latest paper and her new favorite boutique that just opened by her apartment. Our time together serves as it always has, a distraction. A temporary escape from our own complicated lives, although I still don't know if mine has become more so or less.
My desire for routine followed me in everything, not just my work, but my home life as well. I had to learn it of course, perfecting the formula since back when Miguel and I had first moved in together. And with Gaby, things had changed to accommodate. After brunch with MJ, there were my usual Friday errands. Grab groceries, a snack for Gaby's soccer team, if they have a game the next day, and swing by the company building to drop off any books I used for research and take new ones they needed me to review for my next paper.
Already I was groaning internally on the drive home, the routine calling for me to be the one that put the groceries away, made dinner, washed the dishes, made sure Gaby had her soccer uniform ready, got her ready for bed and finally had an hour to myself before bed. So when I stepped through the front door, bags hanging off each arm, the smell of meat cooking gave me pause.
It didn't take long to find the source, Miguel at the stove cooking steaks, Gaby sat close by on the counter mixing a salad. Her head popped up as I came in, a smile broadening on her small face. "Mommy!" she cheered, forgoing her task to crawl off the kitchen island. I smile, of course I smile, setting the bags down so I can hug her back properly, combing my fingers through her hair to free a few stray knots.
I look to Miguel then, who hasn't even acknowledged me it seems. His back was to the both of us and I took the initiative. "You're making dinner?" I ask, coming to his side to look at the food being prepared. Red meat was never my favorite, I didn't think it was his either, the bold color of the steak a stark contrast to the stainless steel. There was blood pooling around it, sizzling and bubbling, the scent of iron filling my nostrils and I had to pull back.
"Gaby was hungry," he answered, in that monotone voice he seemed to use now, making my teeth grind subconsciously. "So I figured I'd run to the store and grab a few things, get the shopping done-"
"Shopping?" I repeat, moving to the fridge then, freezing when I find it fully stocked. My eyes lock onto his back, sure I would burn holes into the fabric of his shirt if super powers existed. "You didn't call to tell me?"
Miguel finally lifts his head, looking over at me with an almost bored expression. It only serves to anger me further, "I guess it slipped my mind," he shrugs, turning his head to finally recognize the groceries I had gotten, that were supposed to be the ones in the refrigerator. Miguel shrugs again, "We'll eat it."
I suppose most wives were supposed to be grateful, give their husbands a kiss and move on with their night, but that didn't feel right in this moment. This was a game, one neither of us seemed to want to admit we were playing. Kind gestures like lessening the workload had an underlying meaning, that it wasn't kindness fueling the actions at all.
There wasn't much more I had to say to him, I wasn't sure what the right thing to say was. Around him I felt like I'd lost my footing, everyday seeming to be a challenge for him to throw me off balance. We sat at the dining table where Gaby took over the conversation, gushing about her day with her dad, which was also news to me since she was meant to be at preschool. Miguel was engaged with her, wrapped around her little finger with every word and breath she let out. I remembered nights like this before, the warmth in my chest to see the two people I loved together, but it wasn't like that anymore. It hadn't been. Instead there was coldness, a twist in my stomach that made me lose my appetite, as if the blood soaking the lettuce leaves on my plate didn't do that enough.
Miguel didn't offer to help when I grabbed the dishes, listening now as our daughter regaled him with how she planned to play at her game tomorrow. Both of them had cleaned their plates, while I simply scraped what was on mine into the trash, mostly because I had no desire to eat any more of it and partially from being fueled by spite. For a while it was just me and my thoughts, mulling over the last couple weeks. Every moment alarm bells rang in my head, the actions that weren't quite in character, the change in what he wore, how he spoke. Do you think he knows? MJ's question rings in my head, that being the only logical answer to why he'd been acting so differently, but it was something I still couldn't believe. I was always careful, always followed the routine, how he could know that-
"You seem upset."
"Jesus!" I startle, the dishes clanking as I whirl around, Miguel half stepped into the kitchen. His eyes are penetrating, hard in that way I know he's assessing me, not in that gentle way he always had. I huff, turning back to my work and continuing, "don't scare me like that."
He doesn't apologize, "What's wrong?" Miguel asks, but I know by his tone he doesn't care, as if inquiring to just fulfill the role a husband is supposed to.
"Nothing's wrong," my own voice is just as clipped.
"Is that right?"
"What would I have to be mad about?"
Miguel scoffs, his footsteps a heavy sound that comes closer, "As if you need a reason." I don't look, my scrubbing getting more aggressive as my heart thumps in my chest. As a chill goes up my spine that shouldn't when my husband approaches me. It doesn't stem from excitement, rather a subconscious fear that I cannot grasp the source of. And it frightens me that I can't.
"Ah!" I hiss in a breath as pain shoots through my fingers, stopping to look down in the water, realizing I had been so distracted that I had accidentally cut my finger on the steel wool sponge. The heat of him reminds me I'm not alone and I stiffen as his front presses into my back, blood dripping into the water below.
Miguel's hand comes into view, large and veined, he overpowers mine and brings it up for his inspection, fingers squeezing my cut one. "Maybe I should take over. Gaby's watching her show, go sit-"
"No." I snap at him, moving to face him, but a hand on my hip holds me in place. In fact his entire body has pushed mine against the counter now, pinning me there like it takes no effort.
"No?" he repeats, in disbelief that I would object him. I feel his lips close around my finger, sucking up the drops of blood and my face heats. The hand on my hip glides to my stomach, pulling me further against him and my arm strains at the awkward angle. "What's gotten into you?"
"That's what I should be asking you," I retort, yanking my arm to no avail. It takes all my effort to not accuse him, to point the fingers I want to, say what I've been thinking. But I know I can't, not yet, not without proof for whatever wrong my instincts are picking up on. My lips press into a tight line, mind working to find some response beyond the accusation that managed to slip through. "I just don't know why you're doing all this. You know that I have a routine, you know that I like my routine, so why are you now-"
"Ah, so that's it," Miguel interrupts me, chuckling humorlessly as he finally lets go of my hand, allowing me to jerk it back to myself. He scoffs again, fingers brushing hair behind my ear and making me flinch. I'm positive he's smiling, that it's for the better I can't see him, otherwise I'd want to smack it off his face. Those same fingers suddenly grasp the back of my neck and I'm confused why the thought of him snapping it crosses my mind, "Do I have to spell it out for you? This is the new routine."
My chest lurches as I'm shoved forward, bent over the sink, my hands catching myself on the wall so I don't go face first into the suds. Cool air hits the back of my legs as he grabs at my skirt, bunching the fabric at my waist. "Wait, Miguel-"
"Shh, s'alright, pequeña," his voice is a purr, a deep foreboding. He tugs at the back of my thong and lets it snap back into place, making me jump. "I'm just trying to be more... clear about how things work around here." Miguel's other hand strokes over my ass and for a moment I think he might smack it, but he seems to change his mind. "I plan to help out more. Be the husband and father I was meant to be." He grabs at my underwear again, this time sharply tugging it down. "We're a team after all, baby."
"I know that, Miguel," I snap back at him, "but we have our way of doing things, the groceries, the cooking, that's stuff that I can take care of. You don't have to do all that."
"You're right, I don't," he chuckles, the feel of his fingers going between my legs startling, causing me to lurch forward. "But I want to. I want to do the grocery shopping and cooking, all you have to do is take care of Gaby and spread your legs nice and wide."
Miguel emphasizes this by nudging my legs apart with his foot, but I keep my thighs clenched, as if that could keep him away. "Stop it, Miguel I don't want- Gaby's in the other room-" the shove of his fingers inside me cuts off what I was about to say, gasping instead. When I go to protest further, he curls the digits into my sweet spot and I have to clam up to keep quiet.
"You don't want to, does your body know that?" Miguel asks in a mocking tone, already knowing the answer. I can feel what he does, the heat pooling between my legs, the pleasure that shoots up my spine when his fingers prod just the right spot. It makes me want to scream at myself, at the body that had grown familiar with my husband's touch, that still yearned for him even when I didn't want it to. Miguel didn't even fuck the same, I realize, a gentle giant in the public eye and in our marital bed. But now, with this newfound bravado came a harshness, rough hands and biting teeth.
He pulls his fingers free, the slick sound of it humiliating, but it's short lived when something new prods against my entrance, something larger and that I know well. As I ponder how he'd undone his pants so quickly, his cock thrusts forward. There's an initial pain, burning through my core as it aches at the sudden intrusion. He's always been big, but fuck, I don't remember it like this. "Shit.. it's too much..."
"You can take it," he answers, leaning over my body. His hand braces beside mine on the wall, his grip tightening on the back of my neck as he begins to thrust. There's no urgency, no quick movements like our other quickies in the kitchen. He thrusts back in slowly, taking the extra effort to ensure I take all of him, only to pull out until just the head remains and doing it all over again. I forget myself as a moan passes my lips, our breaths growing heavy and the room hot. Miguel finally releases my neck, but the lack of his touch is short lived as it only moves to grip my throat. "Shh, Gaby's in the other room," he uses my own excuse against me, my whine silenced by his hand clenching in warning.
It's then he picks up the pace, only subtly, standing straight to make it easier to grind against me, clutching my skirt to bring my hips back to him. His touch is all consuming, robbing me of any coherent thought I had before. When I remember to fight back, he hits that bundle of nerves that makes me see stars. The grip on my neck tightens as he forces me to arch back, bringing me close once more and I feel like I can't breathe. Not entirely, just enough so that my head feels light, that my vision blurs and all I can feel is his cock inside me and the huff of his breath on my backside.
"Touch yourself," he demands and my hand doesn't hesitate, shoving itself between my legs to stroke my clit in time with his rutting. The sound of the TV is faint, drowned out by the heavy breaths and slap of skin on skin. It's ages before his hips stutter and he finally buries himself inside me, uttering a curse before letting go of my skirt to shove my fingers aside and bring me over the edge with him. He moves his fingers with a knowing ease, pressing down firmly in some strokes and gentle the next. The climax makes me see stars, the both of us going still and a heavy quiet blanketing the air.
As I come down, the TV sounds louder, obnoxiously so and I realize he had the volume up on purpose. That he no doubt came into the kitchen with intention. "Now," Miguel says in a composed fashion, pulling from my warmth and I hiss at the sensitivity. He doesn't bother to fix my clothes, instead grabbing my arm to turn me towards him, bringing me close so our faces are inches apart. The fear I feel is sobering, the heady brain fog of orgasm evaporating at his command. "You're going to go wash up and when you're done, put on one of my shirts, go kiss our daughter good night and meet me in our room for your next lesson."
He leaves no room for argument, shoving me towards the door and I stumble. My skirt falls to its normal position, but the feeling of our fluids trickling down my inner thighs makes me realize my thong had fallen off amidst the thrusting and fucking. I turn to retrieve it, but Miguel has already scooped it from the floor in one swift movement, smirking as he brings them to his nose, inhales and shoves them in his pocket. He jerks his head in a gesture that tells me to keep walking, but I still can't think straight, simply complying and leaving the kitchen. Gaby is sitting on the couch, smiling as I pass her to take the stairs. Halfway up, I pause and look back, seeing Miguel take the space beside her, taking no time to stretch out in a relaxed fashion like nothing was amiss. Like I was imagining the throbbing of my cunt and the flush on my cheeks. I think to ask him to get her ready for bed, but continue upstairs in silence when I realize I don't have to.
Imagine Miguel O'hara with a reader that was changed biologically too 👀
But it wasn't accidental. They forced her into it.
She's very good with science and math! Since she was a scientist.
Until her so called friends experimented on her for "science".
She also has a motherly aura and adores kids 😭❤
Okay but I love it?? For some reason it gives me found family vibes which I am a sucker for that kind of dynamic.
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader
Warnings: fluff, the mildest of hurt/comfort
It was a chance encounter, a moment where Miguel happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the right time. He was investigating yet another shady company; not one as big as Alchemax, but could be if he didn't put a stop to it. The lab was one faulty wire from being considered a complete OSHA violation, making it so he took extra care in his search. Anything that could shut this place down once and for all, papers, a USB drive, anything. And that's when he found you.
You had crammed yourself into the corner of your cell, or maybe it was more of an enclosure with how a glass wall separated the two of you. His presence had you on edge; his tall, imposing figure standing in front of you, the lack of light making it difficult to tell if he was looking around or directly at you. The hero part of him urged his body forward to investigate, the more rational side cautious to the fact you could be a threat. He knew there was more to the eye when your idea of self defense was hurling the metal bedframe at his head like it was nothing. An act that to you made you feel like a monster, but to Miguel he saw a potentially new recruit.
After much coersion and pinky promises that he had nothing but good intentions, Miguel brought you back to HQ, a fresh day pass strapped to your wrist to prevent any further physical trauma. Based on the bruises and healing needle pricks, he knew you had had enough happen to you already. While you adjusted to your new surroundings, Miguel did his own experiments to uncover what had happened to you. Non invasive scans while you slept and a finger prick that you only agreed to under the condition you'd also receive a gizmo. You mostly just wanted it to have a Lyla of your own.
His findings proved to be somewhat startling, after all he had yet to encounter another who had their biology meshed with a spider's. It brought on new questions: what experiments led to your situation? Did you have the same powers as him? What was he supposed to do with you now? Sending you back to your universe seemed like the most logical choice, but you seemed less than stable enough to be left alone. Not to mention he couldn't risk having you get found and put back in the exact same position you were in before he came along. He eventually concedes and allows Lyla to prepare a room for you at HQ, that way he can keep a close eye on you. See what all there was to this experiment gone wrong.
"Just... try not to touch anything."
It turns out he learns about the person underneath as well. After spending some time holed up in your new room, getting familiar with you newfound freedom and realizing it was not in fact a dream that someone rescued you, you find yourself exploring the facility. He finds you one day working on a problem he's been on for weeks, an equation to help calculate the jump from his universe to a new one he discovered in the multiverse. At first he thinks you're mucking it up, a firm hand on your shoulder pulling you back from your work.
"Don't touch that!"
It isn't until he realizes that you were in fact helping, going so far as to solve the damn thing, that he offers a reluctant apology, both for being harsh and for scaring you half to death. From there he starts to utilize your mind for its intended purposes, the other spiders giving him a hard time for questioning you in the first place. I mean, aren't all versions of Spider-Man supposed to be smart? To some degree.. When he notices your confidence start to grow, he suggests that you become a full fledged member of the society, missions and all.
It's flattering, but you decline the offer. Having heard stories from the other spiders, the idea of chasing down other people who might've gone through the same thing as you is less than appetizing. The last thing you want is the reminder of that point in your life. Miguel asks then if you're ready to go home, but you're not sure about that either. It comes down to a compromise of sorts, where you get to stay in HQ so long as you work. Not as a spider going out to stop the anomalies, more so like Spider-Byte where you work behind the scenes, helping Miguel with his calculations and doing your own experiments to figure out a way to help anyone else who might be in your situation a universe away.
This lifestyle makes you sort of the go to for babysitting, so you came to learn. It helped that the few kids of the society seemed to gravitate towards you, not that you minded. Mayday was always an eager helper in your lab, even if it meant you weren't able to do actual work. Child safety and all that. You end up collecting those little at home science kits that kids like, just so you have something to do with her once her toys became too boring.
Miguel gets on you for it, saying you should focus more on your work, but he's softened up with you at this point. You tease that he should be thanking you, seeing that if the kiddos weren't with you, they'd certainly be crawling around on his platform, demanding attention while their parents were off on missions. Needless to say, you'd be getting a promotion soon enough.
All this time, Miguel and you get close easily enough, after all he's not the only one now who stays at HQ 24/7. There are plenty of late nights where neither of you can sleep, stuck on a work problem or simply unable to. You because of the nightmares that linger from your past and him because he's probably an undiagnosed insomniac. Somehow you peel him away from the monitors to grab a bite at the cafeteria, to go sit on the roof and talk, to go out on a late night 'patrol'. Really you're just swinging around the city. You're forever grateful to him for rescuing you and helping you find new meaning, but what you don't expect is for him to be grateful to you. For all your help, your dedication to the cause and most importantly, your company.
